


Inspired

by Lord_Chungus



Category: A Practical Guide to Evil - erraticerrata
Genre: Gen, One-Shot, not an au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 09:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Chungus/pseuds/Lord_Chungus
Summary: After his escape from the Grey Pilgrim's band, Amadeus makes a choice. It is not the only choice that matters, but it is an important one nonetheless.





	Inspired

When Amadeus awoke, he half-expected to be shackled, chained, and surrounded by heroes; it would be just like the Bard, after all, to have lied to or misled him.

Fortunately, this was not the case, and Amadeus awoke in a warm bed. It was wool, he noted, which was odd when compared to the rather spacious room it occupied.

Mental gears turning, he lifted himself out of the bed and headed towards the door. He put his hand and the doorknob and began to turn, but stopped. From past the door he heard… chanting. The chanting was soft, barely audible to Amadeus’ now-normal ears, but it was oddly beautiful.

It was prayer, Amadeus realized. He was in a church, most likely after being found and taken in by a priest of some sort.

His hand dropped to his side. It wouldn’t do to interrupt the church-goers, and the priest would most likely be annoyed if his sermon was interrupted. Amadeus returned to the bed.

A bell had passed before the sermon ended, and it wasn’t long after that that the door opened and the priest stepped into the room.

“Hello there,” said Amadeus, sitting on the edge of the bed. His pale green eyes met the brown eyes of the priest, who smiled at Amadeus.

“Greetings, my son,” said the priest. “How are you feeling?”

Amadeus frowned, his lips turning slightly downwards. “I feel fine. Why?”

The priest chuckled. “My son, a farmer found you collapsed in a field. When he brought you to me, I thought you to be gravely injured, yet you had no wounds.”

Amadeus suppressed a wince. That would have been the consequences of running for so long, he supposed. His stamina really wasn’t what it used to be.

“I suppose that would have been my own fault,” Amadeus said. “Exhaustion, you see.”

The priest chuckled. “Well, do try not to do it again. At this time of the year, you may well freeze to death; as a matter of fact, it was a miracle that Paul found you at all.”

Amadeus’ face did not change, but internally the gears of his mind began to turn. A miracle…

“I suppose I should leave you be,” the priest continued. “I’ll be back to bring you supper, if you aren’t out of bed by then.”

Amadeus absently nodded as the priest left the room.  _ A miracle indeed. But from who? _

 

* * *

 

It only took a week for the Gods Above to show their hand.

The day had started as any other, with Amadeus helping Jacques, the kindly priest, and Marie, an orphan girl who lived in the church, prepare the church for the day’s congregation. It was boring work, all ceremonies and menial preparations, but the irony alone was enough to keep Amadeus occupied.

The huddled masses came and went without much fuss, and while Jacques had been insistent that Amadeus should say a few words, the green-eyed man had refused. Not out of any moral compunction, no, Amadeus was just unsure if he could lead others in prayer to the Gods Above without bursting out into laughter.

The congregation had gone fine, but it was afterwards that, to put it lightly, events stopped favoring Amadeus.

“Father Jacques!” Marie cried from the church’s entryway. “I finished cleaning the floor!”

Amadeus, who was busy cleaning all the floors that _weren’t_ within five feet of the door, silently raised an eyebrow. “No,” Jacques, said, chuckling fondly. “You only finished one part. Now you can help our guest with the rest, dear.” Marie pouted, but did as she was told.

It was a calm scene, a quiet scene, a nice scene. It was the one of the most _normal_ things Amadeus had done in sixty years.

Which was why he was only half-surprised when a screaming gargoyle crashed through the roof of the church.

It smashed through the wooden roof with an overpowering  _ crack _ , the old roof no match for its stone body. Marie screamed, a shrill noise that pierced Amadeus’ ears, and began sprinting the back of the church but-  _ hell,  _ the gargoyle was between them and the exit and there wasn’t a back door.

More pressingly, however, was the fact that the gargoyle was getting to its feet with an alarming quickness. It was as tall as Amadeus and Jacques combined, with stone skin and sword sticking out of its armpit.

Its blood-red eyes met Amadeus’ pale green ones, and he realized that he should probably be running away.

“Run!” Jacques screamed. He raised his hands in prayer as the gargoyle began running towards them; interestingly, it was much slower than it had any right to be. A Miracle, called on by Jacques to buy them some time. 

Amadeus of the Green Stretch was many things, but he was not one to let an opportunity go to waste. He ran towards the back of the church, following Marie even as Jacques screamed in pain and the gargoyle’s footsteps quickened.

_ What is this _ , he thought, mental gears turning.  _ What story? Which side is behind this? The gargoyle suggests the Gods Below, perhaps working through the Tyrant, but I still don’t know the story. _

His musing were brought to a stop, however, with a shrill cry from Marie, cowering behind the upcoming doorframe. “Look out!”

What was she-  _ thump _ .

With a surprised grunt, Amadeus was thrown to his side, smashing through the altar and rolling to a stop. His back felt like it was on fire, bleeding from claw marks and wood shards, and his experience in these matters led him to believe he had broken a rib.

He panted, eyes closed as he waited for the gargoyle to… to do  _ something _ . To pick him up, or finish him off, or even speak.

But it didn’t.

Instead, Amadeus could hear it pounding at at door. Marie must have locked herself in, but that couldn’t last for long. 

_ Why would it go after her? If the creature is meant for me, then… _

_ It is not going to hunt me _ , he realized.  _ It is the Tyrant’s, gone wild, and it will simply rampage until some brave fool manages to put it down. _

Amadeus opened his eyes, hissing in pain as he did. Looking at the scene in front of him, he saw that he was correct; the gargoyle was pounding on the thick wooden doors, though they were beginning to crack.

One more thing was obvious to him.

The sword had fallen out of the gargoyle’s back, landing in between Amadeus and the stone beast.

_ And that brave fool is supposed to be me. _

“I don’t need to do this,” he whispered to himself, slowly rising from the floor. “I could just play dead, lie here and wait for the gargoyle to leave.”

He wouldn’t do that. He could rationalize it in oh so many different ways - he needed someone to heal him, the gargoyle might kill him anyway, the next call wouldn’t be as gentle - but that wasn’t why.

Amadeus of the Green Stretch was not the type of man to sit idly by while fools ruined his dreams, and if he had to be a Hero to see it done then  _ he would be a fucking Hero _ .

“This is not a defeat,” he whispered as he picked up the sword. “This is not a subjugation. This is not me surrendering.”

He stumbled forward, gripping the sword in both hands as a young girl screamed and the door began to break.

“If all the angels in the Heavens come down and tell me to do Good instead of good, I will make them flee,” he declared, voice growing louder with every step. “I will not be your puppet, you beautiful, disgusting puppet-masters. I will take your gift, and if there are strings attached then I shall use those strings to strangle you!”

The door shattered, the gargoyle bared its teeth, and the pale-eyed man took one last step forward.

“ I will do good  _ right _ .” 

Amadeus of the Green Stretch plunged his sword into the gargoyle’s neck, and became a Hero.

 


End file.
